


Said I, I Adore You

by serpentuschordata



Category: Hiveswap
Genre: Blushing, Comfort, Dancing, Drabbles and One-shots, F/F, Flirting, Gen, Hair Brushing, Hair Washing, Jacket sharing, M/M, Multi, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Second Person, Parties, Slow Dancing, a lot lot of blushing, a lot of flirting, for a chapter at least, lanque is still a flirt, lots of fluff but i wont hesitate to angst if the time comes, marsti loves brushing hair the truth is out, more ships probably, mostly unedited, ship drabbles, slight examination of lanques character for like two paragraphs, this is just turning into "vikare/the world"
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-23
Updated: 2019-01-16
Packaged: 2019-07-15 20:12:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16070453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serpentuschordata/pseuds/serpentuschordata
Summary: A series of short ship drabbles involving various Hiveswap pairings! (Ongoing as of now.)





	1. Your Jacket (Tagora Gorjek/Vikare Ratite)

“Is that…mine?” Vikare asked, tilting his head to one side curiously. Tagora, who was standing outside with a familiar, far-too-big grey bomber jacket draped around him, nodded.

“You left it at my hive a while ago.” Tagora said, nodding. “I was initially going to charge you for it, but after some thought, I…” he blushed, burying his face in the jacket’s fluffy collar in a futile attempt to hide it. “I decided to bring it back, free of charge.”

He began to shrug the coat off of his shoulders, almost hesitantly, until Vikare held up his hands, as if to stop him.

“Wait!” the bronzeblood said, causing Tagora to look up in surprise. “You don’t have to give it back, I–” Realizing what he was saying, he, too, started to blush. “I have plenty just like it right here, and I would imagine you would want something to keep you warm every now and then, so– I guess what I’m trying to say is– you can keep it, if you would like.” He finished with an impossibly sweet smile.

Tagora was suddenly thankful he’d stopped taking the jacket off – that smile was going to be the death of him one day, he thought, burying his face almost entirely. “Then– then I suppose I will keep it.”

“I suppose you will!” Vikare laughed, warm and full of something kind that Tagora wasn’t entirely used to hearing. “‘Free of charge’, as you say!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> _44 - "Is that my shirt?"_
> 
>  
> 
> From a Tumblr ask prompt. Can also be found here: https://aspirationalaviator.tumblr.com/post/178364236277/you-know-i-had-to-do-it-to-em-vikora-with-44


	2. Take Your Chances (Vikare Ratite/Lanque Bombyx)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this ones a lot longer than the first chapter, i wrote it in one night so it's not perfect but i had the idea and i wanted to roll with it and see where it went. this isnt my rewrite of lanques route (that ones taking a lot longer to write than this is) but its more of my interpretation of how lanque acts in canon with a few changes. hes not perfect by any means, but i wanted to figure out how id take his character given the personality hes presented with in hiveswap proper. also vikare always struck me as the type to make daring decisions so i decided to take his character in a different way than the usual way i write him in romances. i hope its good ahah.

Your name is LANQUE BOMBYX, and you’d really rather be anywhere but here right now.

You’re certainly no stranger to parties, of course - you’re a self-proclaimed professional partygoer, frequenting both wild teen hangouts and poetry readings alike. You’re a master of playing the room, and some trolls swore they’d met two completely different versions of you just from the sheer number of fine-tuned social “selves” you’ve accumulated. From soft-spoken sweetheart to raunchy flirt, you seem to cultivate a separate personality for every occasion. This is, of course, definitely not a ploy to cover up the fact that you have no real idea who you’re actually supposed to be. Not at all. 

(Okay, maybe it is, just a little. People seem to make this whole “finding yourself” thing out to be a lot harder than it actually is, and being good at fitting in just isn’t the same as knowing quite where you want to fit in.)

Either way, no matter which Lanque you’re being, you absolutely despise when Bronya tries to “help” you. Being the oldest of the jadeblood group you’re part of, she’s admittedly the one you’re closest to, but sometimes it feels like she’s just trying to be your lusus. No, you don’t want to pick up your clothes off the floor, and no, you don’t want to grubsit right now. There are things to do, places to be, and trolls to see.

But here you are, at some stupid get-together Bronya had arranged, with a few other trolls. It looks like it’s some sort of tea-party-ish get-together, with not many higher-bloods aside from a duo of teals chatting lovingly to each other in a corner. It’s not fancy by any means - unfortunately, since you’d cull for the chance to practice your “snooty fashionable jadeblood” skills that you know can sweep whole rooms off their strutpods - but it’s formal enough, to the point where Bronya and several of the trolls here had dressed nicer than usual, and it looks like someone’s set up a record player on a nearby desk. 

Bronya’s not standing next to you, thank gog. Rather, she’s chatting it up with a short oliveblood in a big coat and a loosely-done tie, and you’re standing against the wall in your well-practiced “distant, yet alluring” fashion. Scouting out the place is your first step to success and not-terrible social interactions, and the vibe you’re picking up on here is that you should act polite, amiable, and generally Bronya-like. 

But hey, where’s the fun in that, right? If she’s gonna drag you here, you might as well make the best of it. (And hell, maybe you’ll even finally hit that sweet spot of finally, truly, fitting in. Or something like that.)

Re-doing your tie and slicking a hand through your hair to tame the curls that you know get all spiky and gross if you don’t keep an eye on them, you adjust your posture. It’s showtime.

Holding your head high, and throwing Bronya a distasteful look for the fun of it, you scour the room for someone to chat with. Unfortunately, it looks like most of these trolls are Bronya’s friends - one of the tealblood couple, the host, is showing a duo of goldbloods in, and a rustblood lady in a bright red suit offers her hand to one of them. An olive-blooded troll in a big hat is sprawled across the loungeplank, passed out cold.

But none of them catch your interest, and those that do are already preoccupied with something or someone else. This definitely isn’t the type of party where you can just sidle up to one of them and strike up a flirty conversation, so you sigh and resort to checking out the record player.

...It’s incredibly monotonous, not to mention you probably look like a complete idiot. The chill, charismatic Lanque Bombyx, checking out the record player. How utterly captivating.

“Do you like it? I daresay it’s one of my finest non-aviational creations!”

A sudden voice causes you to turn around, though not in surprise - you’re used to this sort of thing happening, and you’re frankly unfazed by anything that might startle you. The voice sounds like it wouldn’t sound out of place coming from the record player itself, and the troll it belongs to isn’t too shabby either.

A bronzeblood, wearing a worn-looking bomber jacket over a nice shirt and tie, with shiny glasses that make his eyes look wide and fluffy hair that would put yours (when un-gelled, of course) to absolute shame. When you turn to him, he adjusts his tie a bit, and all at once your nerves (which you are impeccably good at hiding, you might add) kick into high gear. You hope the bronze hasn’t heard of your more questionable drunken exploits from Bronya or someone else - those were experiments you’d rather not repeat, but you had a trashy reputation to upkeep along with your millions of other reputations. 

That reputation wasn’t one you wanted the folks at this particular party to hear about, however, and you’re more than relieved - blessed, even - when the bronzeblood’s face doesn’t contort into an expression of incredible discomfort. 

Gathering yourself, you decide you’ll play it polite, be the sort of jade Bronya wants you to be - mostly. You’re not beyond a little snide remark here and there, and any good facade could always do with a bit of making-fun-of-Bronya. It was all in good fun, of course, but hey, you want to live a little. 

“You made this?” You inquire, raising an eyebrow and gesturing to the record player. “I haven’t seen these around much these days, even down in the caverns! Was it a refurnishing, or-”

(This was all true - no matter which personality you put on, you weren’t often prone to lying.)

“Indeed I did!” the troll nods, smiling proudly. When you get a good look at his face, you notice he’s got two prominent fangs that protrude from his lower jaw, and a dusting of freckles across his cheeks and nose. He’s around the same height as you, too, though a bit shorter and more stocky as opposed to your thinner physique. Offering a hand, he looks at you earnestly. “Vikare Ratite, dear sir! It’s a real honor to meet you!”

“Lanque Bombyx.” You offer your own hand, expecting a hearty handshake. However, instead, he takes your hand and gives it a little kiss, before looking up at you and raising an eyebrow in an admittedly sort of goofy way. 

You almost can’t believe it. He’s flirting with you, and you haven’t even flirted with him beforehand! It’s honestly kind of endearing, and this Vikare fellow doesn’t seem all that bad. You haven’t gotten the chance to try a little flirting with someone at one of these stuffy parties aside from the occasional cooldown hug or kind word that sends some poor, hapless troll blushing and speechless. This is a new ball game, and damn if you aren’t going to try to play. 

“Well well well!” You raise an eyebrow back at him, and you can see his grin widening. “It’s not every day someone beats me to the punch, hm?” You take his hand and return the kiss, before taking your suit jacket from your shoulders and putting it back on in an attempt to look more sophisticated. “And I must say,” you gesture again to the record player, “you must be very skilled to have put this all together on your own! It sounds just like one from sweeps ago!”

“Well, I had a good deal of old records lying around, but nothing to give them a spin on!” Vikare explains, grabbing one of the records lying beside the player on the desk. “A good deal of them aren’t quite as jaunty as this number is, though this shindig doesn’t seem like it’d be the sort to go for the ol’ slow dance, hm?” he laughs, though you notice his eyes darting between you and the record he’s supposedly examining. 

“I don’t know, honestly.” You laugh in return, smirking and looking around the room at the cuddling tealblood couple, then at the goldblood at the rustblood who’s currently combing out her unruly mess of hair. “I think there are more than a few trolls here who wouldn’t mind.” You look at him as you finish that last thought, meeting his eyes with a playful look.

“You might just be thinking an accurate thought!” Vikare winks, stopping the record that’s currently playing and putting on another one. 

The song starts out soft, the warm crackle of the record player giving it a dreamlike quality. It’s a song you haven’t heard before, and it sounds older than most of the songs you’re used to hearing - but it’s not bad, per se, and you notice a few of the other couples around the room swaying to the music or humming along casually. It’s not shaping up to be a terribly formal dance or anything like that, but Vikare still has his proper posture and his goofy grin, and you might as well humour him. 

“Well, shall we?” You ask, holding out a hand and lowering your voice to a soft purr. You’re absolutely going to melt his heart (provided he doesn’t try to melt yours first), and you’re going to be absolutely fucking charming in the process. 

Vikare looks up at you, and you give him your signature half-lidded gaze. He returns it, taking your hand and letting you slip an arm around his waist, but you can see that telltale bronze blush rising on his face. Gently, you sway to the music with him, falling in step with him as you lead him around the room. There’s something therapeutic about it, the rest of the noise seeming to fade away as you slowly draw to a stop and trace a finger across his face.

“Not half bad.” You comment, keeping your voice at that quiet purr and pulling him a bit closer with the hand that’s around his waist, though not uncomfortably so. Vikare looks a little flustered, just for a second, and you take it in with pride - it’s not a bad look on him, and at any other party you might have made a raunchy comment about it - but he quickly recovers, going back to his attempts at being equally flirty. 

“You’re not too shabby yourself.” Vikare smirks, and you can feel him take a step closer. “Though I’m sure you’re a real veteran, aren’t you?”

You’re taken aback - has he heard of you? You try not to let on anything, but you’re almost certain by the heat on your face that you’re blushing. Not out of being flustered, of course - you’re used to this sort of flirting, just not in this type of situation - but rather because you’re almost never recognized by trolls you hadn’t already met. You knew, of course, that there were some rumors, but nothing beyond some petty ones about some of your regrettable drunken shenanigans or your looks. 

And even then, those rumors didn’t usually prompt people to start outright flirting with you. 

To be honest, you’re kind of digging this. You’re not exactly sure if this is the right place for it, but you nod, giving a low chuckle that sounds more like it’d fit in at one of your sleazier hangouts than one of Bronya’s friendly get-togethers. “That I am, sweetheart, that I am.” You match his gaze, a finger lingering on his chin. “So you’ve heard?”

“I-indeed I have.” 

There’s the stutter, you note, his face going bronze at the realization that you’ve caught on to him. He’d heard the rumors, and from the looks of it, has just now realized exactly how far his flirting had got him. However, he doesn’t pull away, instead looking away for a moment before looking into your eyes with a concerned expression. “You’re not- you aren’t angry, correct? I admit I was rather forward, and-”

“No, but I am.” A third voice cuts in, upset-sounding and sharp. You’d know that voice anywhere.

“Bronya, really? Really?” You groan, turning to your fellow jade with a pout. She’s always nagging, and you’re considering just running away again - but Bronya would probably just hunt you down anyways, and Vikare seems like he’d take her side over yours if he thought he’d get in trouble. 

“Yeah, c’mon…” the goldblood girl, wearing a nice gold-and-black dress that reminds you of some froggish girl in your friend Tegiri’s tv shows, intones, giving a snort-chuckle. “They were just getting to the best part.” 

“Well now-” Vikare cuts in, clearly flustered by all the attention. “Perhaps we- let’s not word it like that, now, we were only dancing. Just a little party amiability, surely you understand!” 

“Yeah…” the goldblood grins slowly, still looking incredibly devious. “I gotcha.”

You hope the goldblood might have created a diversion, and slowly, you start to try and slip away - before you feel a familiar tug on your jacket and a familiar scolding voice.

“Uh-uh-uh, young man, you are coming back to the caverns with me right this instant!  
1\. Stelsa, this was a lovely party, I’m sorry we have to leave so early.  
2\. Vikare, I advise you to keep your distance from this rowdy rascal from now on, he’ll stab your bloodpusher and you’re far too good for that sort of thing.  
3\. Folykl, those sorts of comments are not appreciated.”

You sigh, resentfully, but as you’re shambling out the door, you catch Vikare making a “call-me” gesture. Digging into your jacket pocket, there’s a little note written on a piece of paper.

Vikare’s palmhusk number.

Score.


	3. Hair Care (Folykl Darane/Marsti Houtek)

“Hold still. It’s only going to be more uncomfortable if you keep trying to look back at me, Foly. I’m not going to hurt you.”

“I’m trying.” Folykl pouts, turning her head back forwards with a frown. Marsti’s brushing through her hair, slowly and deliberately, and Folykl isn’t beyond considering it a bit relaxing. It’s more often than not a tangled mess, and ever since Kuprum had agreed to let Marsti take care of her every so often, they’d fallen into a routine. It was a little weird, at first, to have someone who understood voidrot as well as Marsti did, but eventually Folykl decided she was actually pretty comfortable with it. 

As much as she cared about Kuprum - they were moirails, after all - he admitted himself that he didn’t know the first thing about health or cleanliness or anything like that (which should really have been obvious from looking at him, to be totally honest), so it was kind of nice to have someone who did. 

“Your hair’s actually surprisingly soft when it’s not all covered in grease.” Marsti notes. Earlier, she’d gone for a full clean-sweep on Folykl’s messy mass of hair, and after a good few hours of washing and conditioning and all that jazz, it’d gone from greasy and tangled to soft and - well, currently, still tangled, but Marsti’s working on that.

“Yeah?” Folykl asks, reaching back to touch it. When Marsti doesn’t object, she takes it and brings it over her shoulder, petting it like it’s a big, fluffy purrbeast. “Oh shit, it is.” She intones, a smirk crawling across her face as she runs her hand through it in fascination. “Never knew it could be this nice.”

“Well, it was admittedly incredibly difficult to get like this in the first place.” Marsti notes, her usual sour demeanor rearing its head for a moment. “You don’t take very good care of it, and from the looks of it, you hadn’t washed it in literal sweeps.”

“That’s not wrong.” Folykl grins, as if this was a point of pride for her. “Kuprum’s gone longer though.”

“Of course he has.” Marsti groans, gesturing for Folykl to let her go back to brushing. Folykl obliges, and Marsti continues; “You don’t mind if we continue this for a few more weeks? Haircare is an important concern of mine, and I figure you’re probably going to need someone keeping an eye on it since you and your moirail aren’t going to.”

“Good point.” Folykl’s grin widens. “Kuprum should be coming back to get me soon, but…” she pauses, her usual slowed-down speaking style crashing to a halt for a moment as she thinks of what to say next. “This was really fucking nice, actually. Thanks, Marst.”

“You’re welcome. Just gotta get it out of your face, and...” Marsti returns the smirk, putting Folykl’s hair into a pair of pigtails with red hair ties. “There we go, you’re all set. Same time next week?”

“Hell yeah.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i couldnt just mention them in the last chapter and not write something with them. marsti has a soft spot for the grease gremlin gal and it shows.


End file.
